


Portrait of a Hierarchy Admiral

by Darkrider



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 12:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrider/pseuds/Darkrider
Summary: A series of stories and scenes depicting Admiral Providentius Modalius of the Turian Hierarchy over the course of his life. A stern and strong turian of action, Providentius is not only defined by his words, beliefs, and deeds, but also by which others interact and affect him over the course of his life.





	1. Recruitment

**Author's Note:**

> Credits to features of other characters who aren't mine will be mentioned in the chapter notes at the bottom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The admiral has never been a conventional leader. The Hierarchy doesn’t mind it because he still gets results, but when it comes to making a difference nobody makes waves like Providentius.” - Fenriux, tactical officer

The admiral did not linger on the bridge for long on days like these. There was too much for him to be present for, not the least among them several new assignments to his command. His tours of duty took him through a pattern of relays and star systems that linked Palaven and all of her colonies together, where they refueled, rearmed, and rotated through the Hierarchy’s vast pool of soldiers and reservists. During their ports of call, the soldiers and officers who had completed their tours departed for home, and a fresh wave of recruits and transfers replaced them. Those with the merit to be stationed aboard his flagship, the dreadnought _Ascendant Justice_ , he made a point to personally visit.

It was a tradition well-familiar with the veterans of his crew, and something that they looked forward with anticipation for. The hangar crew put themselves to work moving starfighters and munitions aside for the wave of shuttles that ferried troops to and from the staging area. The officers and retaining crew made early bets on how their latest wave would react to the admiral’s presence.

Among the Hierarchy, Providentius was not distinguished through any particular renown, but among his clan he was regarded as an inspiration, and very literal bulwark for his troops. No other admiral acted in this way; he was someone who served along the front lines and stood with his men, weathering bullets and biotics alike, a force of nature that lived up to his namesake for all his subordinates. The new arrivals would get a taste of it soon enough.

 

***   

 

“Staff Sergeant Raivvin?”

“Reporting for duty, sir!”

“Your duty station is on the _Ascendant Justice_ , Staff Sergeant. Shuttle bay 2 will take you there.”

“Right. I’ll make my way there.”

It was rare for Raivvin to see so many of the same markings on many of the other turians present. He was from the colonies himself, but he did not immediately recognize the design that he found himself surrounded by, a crimson starbird painted on the main fringe plates and chin. Turians of all shades and sizes bore it, and he wondered for a brief moment whether he had really arrived at the right place. His only reassurance was the confirmation that had just received; he had been assigned to the home defense fleets for his latest tour of duty.

It was neither a matter of great importance nor disgust to him. Insofar as he progressed through the ranks of the Hierarchy Marines, he had performed in his duty such that he earned the rank that he did. It was of no particular significance, save for perhaps that the Hierarchy and its citizens had benefited in some way because of his service. The notion would have satisfied him, if not for the fact that he had to be convinced of it first.

As he made his way through the crowd of soldiers heading to the shuttles that would take them to the fleet in orbit, Raivvin overheard his peers talking about their future life on the fleet.

“So what do you think he’s like? I heard the Admiral’s visiting us personally!”

“I had a cousin who served with him once. He said the guy is almost as big as a Krogan warlord. Could take on one, too!”

Ravvin heard one of the two laugh. “No way, he’s got to be exaggerating! That’s something they just say to keep up morale for a boring job. 50 credits this posting’s shit. Nothing big happens in Hierarchy space.”

As the shuttle touched down and the group of turians boarded, Ravvin found himself mustering a reply as he sat down next to the two marines. “Hey, at least we’re doing something important, right? We’re better off peacekeeping than just letting the Terminus invade whenever they want like in the Traverse.”

“That’s because we don’t colonize the Terminus systems!”

“What about Invictus?”

“Screw those guys! They don’t answer to the Council anyways.”

Raivvin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m just here to try and do my part.”

The other turians didn’t respond, and Raivvin fell into silence before distracting himself with the view that the slim transparent ports on the shuttle offered. The sergeant glimpsed the blue sky deepening in color until he stared into the black, starry night of space. Large specks of steel and deep orange, flying in formation against this backdrop, portended their eventual destination. The shuttle Raivvin travelled in approached the largest of these, a dreadnought whose wings spread out in a wide shape across his field of vision until the shuttle passed thorugh the interior of the hangar.

When he felt the floor shudder with the landing, Raivvin unbuckled his seat straps and rose to his feet, and around him the fresh transfers did the same. Soon after the doors opened, Raivvin looked to see another turian in crimson markings cast over a silver fringe and sky blue eyes. He stood taller than most of the recruits present, but reached about an equal height to that of Raivvin himself.

“Follow me,” was all their escort stated tersely, and the others fell in. Raivvin followed behind and caught a glimpse of the rows of starfighters and the hangar support to running two and from various staging areas spread throughout the open space. The group walked from the hangars into one of the corridors that led deeper into the dreadnought’s superstructure, a maze of halls that Raivvin assumed would be their assigned quarters. But as they passed by several rows full of bunks, his confusion grew. He caught the glances of several guards and crewman on the dreadnought as they smirked and turned away. The further they progressed, the more Raivvin grew suspicious. His questions were answered as they arrived in an open gym area.

Sounds of a struggle emerged in a clearing of equipment and dense cushions. As he and the other recruits ventured inside, they encountered a large group of turians standing in formation that formed a loose ring surrounding two combatants.

Raivvin’s eyes widened. If the rumors were to be believed, then he was staring at the Admiral himself, fighting with another inside. He would have written off the turian’s imposing size on heavy armor, if he wore any. Providentius had opted to wear his admiral’s regalia, a decorative arrangement of fabric, gold trim, and medals that scarcely contained an extraordinary bulk and tall stature packed into a turian frame. Raivvin wouldn’t have believed it if he saw it himself.

The match, as he soon found out, was one-sided. For his size, Providentius moved with surprising agility, and while he was by no means swift, he could stop his momentum and still deliver a crushing blow from either of his claws, which were balled into fists. His opponent, a comparatively much lighter turian, tried to dance and weave his way around the admiral’s stark movements, but it was clear he was running out of steam. In moments, the opponent facing Providentius had been wrestled down, pinned beneath his much larger and heavier counterpart. As soon as it was clear the turian was beat, he tapped on Providentius twice, who nodded and got off the turian he had pinned. As he did, he helped pull his opponent up from the mat to stand up with him, and the turians that surrounded him cheered. Raivvin looked on, bewildered. This was the last thing he expected to have as an orientation to the fleet.

Part of the ring of troops backed off and opened up a hole for the defeated turian to depart through, and through it Providentius looked to the new arrivals. Raivvin stared back with an unobstructed view. The admiral’s plates were only a shade lighter than his pitch hide, and on his fringe he bore the same crimson emblem that Raivvin had now assumed to be a regular sight. Unlike several of the turians, however, Providentius’s golden gaze seemed to blaze with an intensity that dominated the sergeant’s focus. It took a second for Raivvin to realize that Providentius had just addressed him.

“You there.”

“...Sir?”

“You’re one of the new arrivals, yes? What’s your name?”

“Staff Sergeant Dan’Taerix Raivvin, sir.”

Providentius nodded, and crossed his arms in a challenge. “So, you wish to join the fleet? Very well. I will test your resolve, and determine if it is sufficient.”

The opening in the ring of troops stayed where they stood, and looked to Raivvin expectantly. After blinking once, he understood what he was being asked to do. No weapons, no armor; nothing but skill and courage.

After a moment of hesitation passed, Raivvin stepped into the ring of soldiers, which then closed behind him. Providentius stood still, his steady gaze fixed on Raivvin’s movements as he tested the space that stood between them. As he neared, the admiral simply stared at him, and as he backed away, Providentius looked on, still standing with his arms crossed. It was clear to Raivvin that he was to make the first move, and that the admiral would certainly counter when he fully committed to an attack. He couldn’t risk it without being outmatched in terms of raw physical might. Like the turian he observed beforehand, he’d have to rely on speed and skill to make up for their physical disparities, and minimize his expenditure of energy in the process.

Raivvin began with a narrow, nimble stance, his claws curled into fists and put up into a guard in front of his face. When he had strayed just outside of the reach of his fists, Raivvin quickly shot forwards and threw a punch directly at Providentius’s face. As he guessed, Providentius finally reacted as soon as he realized that Raivvin sought to attack.

Providentius raised his own guard and let the blow connect, and Raivvin felt his fist firmly plant, and went no further. He impacted against hard plate and muscle that suddenly relaxed as the force of the blow passed through. The admiral’s clenched claw unfurled and attempted to grasp Raivvin’s outstretched arm, to which the sergeant quickly withdrew his fist. Providentius, registering Raivvin’s retreat, lurched forwards and snapped his claws out to try and grapple his opponent to the ground. Raivvin quickly jumped to the side to avoid the admiral’s charge, and kicked low in a bid to trip Providentius mid-stride. It connected, slowing Providentius down and causing him to plant his other foot firmly against the floor. He used the attack as an opportunity to pivot, and to face the sergeant directly again.

Raivvin growled under his breath. He couldn’t strike Providentius from a place of safety, not when the admiral’s height afforded him a reach that was beyond his own. And with the admiral’s considerable size, he could not simply wear Providentius down through attrition; he would have to strike at the weak points.

Providentius noted his hesitation and took initiative, launching a punch of his own. Raivvin backed up quickly, and within a few steps Providentius closed the gap. He couldn’t react with precise enough aim to strike the joints, nor capitalize on them in a way that would lock them; Providentius would probably just out-wrestle him. That left only two targets, and a gambit.

Raivvin stopped his pace suddenly and let the Admiral close in. Providentius spread his arms out in another attempt to catch Raivvin into a lock. With as much swift force as he could muster, Raivvin shot both his claws out, one aimed at the admiral’s centerline just below his pectoral shelf, and another aimed just above the chest and at the neck. By the time that Raivvin committed to his gambit, Providentius had no means to stop his momentum, and his eyes widened as the only reaction to Raivvin’s sudden move. The sergeant’s claws impacted squarely against both Providentius’ weak points, and for once caused him to stop in his tracks, suddenly robbed of breath, stunned long enough for the sergeant follow-up.

As Providentius stumbled, Raivvin attacked again. He went for Providentius’ eyes, but his claw stopped short when he doubled over from feeling the admiral’s knee strike firmly up against his torso. Almost instantly after, he felt himself being wrapped by sizeable arms, and a great weight topple him over. He was pinned.

Even then, Raivvin struggled beneath the titan of an admiral that kept him from escaping. With few other options left, he threw his head forwards and felt the forehead area of his fringe connect with his opponent’s with a sharp _crack_ that resounded throughout the room. Soon after, he saw the admiral tap the floor twice, and he finally relaxed from his efforts.

“That’s enough. I’m impressed,” Providentius murmured, before rising and helping pull Raivvin to his feet. “You think quickly and effectively on your feet. But you sacrifice secure footing for a killing blow.”

Raivvin smiled a little and heard the cheers of the soldiers surrounding them. “I didn’t have a chance of winning otherwise,” he supposed. “You had most of the advantages in that fight, so I had to take the few chances I could.”

The admiral nodded. “And are you willing to take those same chances to help out your fellow men?”

Raivin nodded. “I am.”

“Good. Then I welcome you to the Hierarchy’s home defense fleet, Staff Sergeant Raivvin. Report to Aska Modalius for your troop assignment and quarters.”

The ring of soldiers opened again and Raivvin stepped out. Providentius issued his challenge again and another recruit stepped forwards. By then, the Staff Sergeant was already walking out from the gym.

The admiral had defied all expectations for him, but he knew he at least met the expectations of his superior. There was a lot for him to learn; he would be happy serving here for his tour.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Staff Sergeant Dan'Terix Raivvin is not my character; he's the intellectual property of @future_soldat on twitter!


	2. Modalius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Providentius bears the markings of his chosen clan with more honor than many of his peers, despite his relatively diverse heritage. He acts more the knight than the innovative engineer, but that hasn't stopped him from making a name for himself and for the Modalius." - Aeos, Alliance Liaison

_Pioneer. Mission Cheer. Without Fear_.

Providentius read these words many times before, and it often appeared beneath the Modalius starbird that emblazoned the Hierarchy’s orbital shipyards. A massive series of skeletal dry docks linked by ceramics and composites, it was the pride of the clan’s achievements and the most visible example of the Modalius contributions to the Hierarchy. Nationalization did not stop them from proudly displaying an unbroken lineage highlighting their contributions to the turian’s innovative developments throughout its history. Their tradition of engineering and invention stretched back to antiquity. From one end of the display hall to the other, Providentius passed by a long line of miniaturized models of siege engines that then transitioned to sailing ships, then powered craft and, as Providentius continued, to airplanes, and eventually to the very starships that he served on.

“Captain Providentius?”

Snapping out of his reverie, Providentius turned to see his younger twin, Fenriux, who stood behind him silently until now. His brother’s sharp, dark visage blended into the stark shadows of the display hall that the lights cast from the hard angles of the room. “Fenriux? I thought you took an assignment with one of the expeditionary fleets. What are you doing here?”

Fenriux scoffed. “What, you pick up captain and I’m suddenly not allowed to be in your presence?”

Providentius shot his brother a look of incredulity. “Quite the opposite. I thought you wanted to move onto bigger and better things, make a name for-”

“Myself?”

Providentius said nothing, but when he caught the way Fenriux directed his cool stare, it was clear that he didn’t need to. Fenriux stepped out of the shadows of the corridor and into the stark lighting of the display hall, regarding his brother with a vindictive glare.

“You insult me. I could do without titles and recognition, and all that uptight pageantry you have to deal with. I simply wish to be where I can do the most good. I’ve decided that this would be with the home defense fleets.”

Providentius huffed. “With your scores, you could ask for any posting in the fleet. With your tactical genius, we wouldn’t have to worry about Terminus pirates for the better part of the century. You decision wasn’t made with your performance record in mind.”

“Neither was yours,” Fenriux countered. “After your performance with the Relay 314 incident, you could have been transferred to any post of your choosing. You could have served in the Sixth Fleet defending the Citadel itself. You will lose all your potential for upward mobility if you stay here in Hierarchy space.”

“I prefer to be closer to home, to kin,” Providentius replied, returning his attention to the model displays on wall opposite Fenriux.

His brother followed his gaze and took a few steps forward, a grimace clear across his visage. “Is that loyalty to the starbird on your face, our fellow titans, or to our relatives on Digeris?”

“The Modalius are more than just the paint that unite their myriad of turians together, more than the creed they adhere to.”

Fenriux huffed. “To you, perhaps. But you aren’t their spokesman. We are descended from leaders and warriors, not the engineers and the scientists that they claim heritage to. The founding lineage of our clan would be best positioned to define our people, and we’re as far from the originals as one could get.”

“They already have; the fact they’re willing to graft outsiders from all sorts of backgrounds proves they value the contributions of others more than what they already possess.”

A low rumble emerged from Providentius’ brother. “Hm. I might be convinced of that...but I doubt Praetorius will find that an acceptable excuse.”

“Dad intends his best,” Providentius began, hesitantly. After a pause, he finally found words he could muster. “But he has always projected his own desires and drives onto us, onto you, unfairly.”

“He is never satisfied.”

“A curse of his Chronol blood. The Modalius themselves hold no such standard over you, any more than they would try to hold such standards to me.”

Fenriux’s mandibles pulled taught against his fringe plates. “That changes nothing. You still succeeded where I did not.”

Providentius looked down. “Your qualities are different from my own. I do not have your grasp on our enemy’s intentions and goals, nor can I think in such objective terms. These are less visible to the public eye, and it has certainly gone unappreciated by our father...but you are no lesser for it.”

Fenriux said nothing, and let the silence grow between them.

“Still,” Providentius added, glancing to Fenriux, “your deflection isn’t an excuse to avoid my earlier question. Why are you here? Why join the home fleet?”

Fenriux looked away. “It really isn’t a complicated answer; somebody has to manage things while the idiot brother is off playing hero with the grunts.”

Providentius huffed, and finally grinned. “That brother wouldn't stand to be the reason why his sibling sacrificed due recognition of his talents, either.”

“Well,” Fenriux admitted quietly, “there’s something to be said about working alongside family.”

“That can be said by more than you. Does this mean Aska’s demanding a place, too?”

“Don’t ask it like that to her face. She won’t bust your skull if you just give her a spot.”

The two brothers shared a chuckle. Even so, the silence that followed spoke volumes of the distance that lay between them.

“Really, though,” Providentius resumed, his tone serious, “The last thing I want to be is the obstacle between you and your own success. If you want to a leader in your own regard someday-”

“I want to use my talents to their utmost,” Fenriux cut in softly. “If that means I am to lead, then I will strive for it. But I can just as easily execute my vision from the shadow of your presence. Even the grandest of strategies requires realization through tactics. I will find a place at your side.”

“Is that what you want?”

“It is. Besides, I’m sure I will gather my own share of experience commanding in your service; someone will have to direct the broader theater of battle when you fight on the front lines.”

One of Providentius’ mandibles flared in a lopsided grin. “That is fair enough.”

 

***

“The bulk of their naval forces are pulling back.”

Providentius heard his brother’s voice through the speakers in his helmet as a hail of bullets tested the limits of the barrier he projected in front of himself and the company of soldiers retreating behind him. They slowly walked back through a narrow hallway that left little cover for them to take in the face of an onslaught of metal flying at near-relativistic speeds.

“They press us hard, here,” The admiral growled in reply. “Can you assess their intentions?”

“Energy readings are spiking at the facility’s power core, and continue to rise steadily. It is reasonable to assume that they put their reactor to overload, or some other self-destruct mechanism. It would be prudent to make haste in your retreat.”

Providentius withdrew the biotic field, and channeling it, threw it outwards in a wall of pure force that slammed the Terminus raiders pursuing his team on their backs.

“To the shuttles!” he ordered as he began to back up. “I’ll keep the rear guard!”

As the admiral and his marines retreated, some stopped their runs short and knelt with their rifles raised in the opposite direction to cover the rest of the team. More raiders emerged from the corridors and were quickly met with suppressing fire that caused their shields to flare in blue warning, and many took cover away from the main hallway as they moved.

Atop the bridge of the _Ascendant Justice_ , Fenriux stood with his claws folded behind his back as he pressed the fleet closer to the asteroid base.

“Squadrons Talon and Shatha, provide cover for the shuttles to pick up our ground forces. Cruisers _Digeris_ and _Edessan_ , take your supporting elements and move to flank the retreating enemy and cut off their escape to the relay.” Looking down to the other crew at the helm, Fenriux smoothly transitioned to operations on the dreadnought itself. “Do we have a firing solution?”

One of the Modalius operating the internal communications system quickly replied to him. “Working on it!”

Nodding, Fenriux returned his gaze to the sensor’s display directly in front of him. “Fire as soon as you find one.”

Just then one of the pilots in the fleet broke through to the comms. “Talon to _Justice_ , come in.”

“We read you Talon. What’s your status?”

Over the comms, Fenriux could pick out the hum of the engines and various warnings from within the pilot’s cockpit sounding their alarms. “We’ve got some anti-air attempting to prevent the Admiral’s retreat. We’re doing our best to suppress them but they’re hitting us hard. Can you assist?”

Nodding to the helmsmen below him, Fenriux’s reply was swift. “ _Ascendant Justice_ copies. We’ll move to counter their point defense with our own. Gunners, target the GARDIAN batteries first, and if we can rotate our main gun to find a firing solution on the retreating forces, take it.”

“Fenriux, that will be taking us into the estimated explosion radius of the facility!”

“Better the _Justice_ than our fighters and crew, bridge. Take us down, we’ll shield the others and bear the brunt of the blast.” Tapping on the CIC controls to access the intercom, Fenriux quickly added, “Decks 24-26, seal all bulkheads and brace for anticipated force of impact. Medical crews to hangars and by the lifts! Be on standby for incoming wounded!”

In the asteroid facility, Providentius slung one of the wounded marines over his shoulder and backed away and let a controlled burst from his Phaeston ward off the last of their pursuers.

“Time to detonation?” he called behind him.

“One minute, sir!”

Growling, Providentius finally turned and trudged into the shuttle and laid the rescued marine gently onto one of the seats.

“Take us out of here, Koter!”

The pilot in the seat let his talons rush over the haptic interface in a dizzying waltz as the engines hummed to life and leapt the crew into space. Ahead, the _Ascendant Justice_ loomed over, and a cloud of fighters flew to and from his field of vision in a frantic dance. Long streaks of directed energy burnt a lattice of lines into the Dreadnought’s hull, and narrowly grazed past the more nimble strike craft that twisted and turned away just at the last second. As the shuttle neared the hangars, their fighter escort peeled away and Koter threw the engines into reverse at the last second, slowing all his forward momentum and allowing him to effortlessly adjust his vector and kick the shuttle off at a hard angle that took them straight into the dreadnought hangar.

As soon as the shuttle touched down, the shockwave from the exploding facility rocked the dreadnought and unseated Providentius and the other marines briefly before they steadied themselves. It wasn’t long before the Admiral heard his brother over the intercom. “Admiral Providentius! Are you alright?”

“We are well,” Providentius replied, a sigh escaping him. “Koter and our fighters got us back safe. Thank you. What’s the damage report from your end?”

“Hull integrity is still intact, no breaches,” Fenriux replied. “Medical personnel are on their way to the lower decks to take any casualties back to the medbay. Are there any wounded with you?”

“There are a few,” Providentius replied, glancing to the one he carried. “We’ll need receiving crew here too.”

“They’re standing by at the hangar’s entrance, they’ll meet you there.”

“Good. Your foresight guides us well, as always. What of the rest of the raiders?”

“They make their way to the relay. I’ve directed some of our faster ships to pursue them in a pincer action-”

“Order them to cease pursuit, and fall back into formation,” Providentius cut-in.

“Providentius, I-”

“The battle is over, they will cease pursuit.”

“They will merely regroup-”

“And so will we, with strengthened defenses. We have done our part, and you have done yours, and that will be enough. Trust me.”

A long silence grew after Providentius’ words. And then, finally-

“Call off the attack,” Fenriux commanded, softly but firmly. “Tell the cruisers and all elements to regroup back to the dreadnought.”

The admiral exhaled audibly, and smiled broadly.

 

***

 

“So. Do you have any regrets, being the tactical officer of the home defense fleets?”

Fenriux shook his head. “No. My knowledge is my own, and I know its value. It is used well, for all of Providentius’ ideals. I don’t hold those against him. He has prudence of his own, as do I.”

“You sound like you have found your place here.”

Fenriux huffed, but the flare of his mandibles admitted the small grin of his. “Yes, I suppose so.”


	3. Citadel Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When I spoke with Providentius, I could hardly believe a man so approachable or real could ascend to the admiralty. But when I went on patrol the next day, I could still hear him-I could still feel the confidence in his words helping me do my job. I don't have any doubts on how he reached his tier. None." - Sigmus Sekorian, C-Sec Special Response

“Providentius? Sigmus Sekorian. I’m the C-Sec officer in charge of your visit to the Citadel.”

Looking down at the gold-marked turian in front of him, Providentius felt the familiar urge to kneel so as to make their difference in height a little less poignant, even if he knew that such an act made the difference all the more apparent. Instead, Providentius offered a claw, which Sigmus took and shook.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your day to show me around. I hope it is not too much trouble for you.”

Even before they began to walk from the the C-Sec academy, Sigmus had already began to reply as they departed from the open plaza.

“No, no, not at all! This beats walking through my precinct in the wards on just another day. It’s good to have some variety to avoid the dull everyday work schedule, you know?”

Providentius nodded. “That is a good way of looking at it. Where are we going first?”

As they stepped into one of the lifts, Providentius kept himself towards the back of the elevator and gave as much room to Sigmus as possible, who didn’t seem to mind their proximity as the doors closed and brought them to the surface of the space station’s inner ring.

“We’ll start off with the Presidium. Most of the diplomats from all the Citadel-affiliated governments conduct their business there. If the tower’s open, I can also show you around there! We can’t go into the council chambers, though, not unless you already have an audience scheduled beforehand.”

Providentius nodded. “I don’t. I’m only temporarily stationed here as part of the Hierarchy fleets to help bolster the Sixth, after-”

As the elevator slowed to a crawl, Providentius stepped out and looked at a manicured landscape marred with deep gashes of exposed bulkheads, wiring, and residual smoke. Sigmus caught the Admiral blinking, and noted the subtle shift in his breathing as a sharp inhale passed through the giant’s nose and came out slowly.

“The damage is more terrible than I had imagined,” he murmured silently.

Sigmus’ smile faded. “Yeah, they’re still trying to repair the station after the geth attack. It might be hard to believe, but in the months since it hasn’t looked nearly as bad as it used to.”

“I imagine everybody here must be hard at work to get things back to normal again,” Providentius mused as he took a few steps outside.

Sigmus found himself following after the admiral as he moved of his own initiative, coming to rest his arms on one of the railings overlooking the channel of water that separated the ends of the Presidium ring. “We are, but the keepers help. They’re the species who tend to most of this stuff on the station. We’ve been able to accomplish all this in a few months because of their help.”

Providentius didn’t reply, and Sigmus thought to say something to fill the deepening silence, but nothing came to mind. Half of him was still processing that he was _with_ the admiral to begin with.

“I...hope this won’t be an issue,” he heard himself say. Even as it left his mouth, Sigmus felt awkward afterwards.

Providentius shook his head. “Not at all. It is nothing you could have anticipated, anyhow, or any of us for that matter. I am just shocked, I suppose. In all of my years I have not seen such devastation, not since the Relay 314 Incident, and certainly not to the center of government.”

“You served in the war?”

Providentius’ pause was as notable as his reply. “I did. I served as the captain of a cruiser at the time; I was assigned rear guard when the Alliance Second Fleet drove us from Shangxi. Truthfully, I had no stake in the Hierarchy’s...misguided, thinking. I was there for my men, nothing more. When we were driven from the human colony, my only concern was making sure we could retreat with minimal casualties.”

“If it’s too personal of a topic, we don’t have to talk about it,” Sigmus murmured.

Providentius shrugged. “I don’t speak of it often...but that silence hasn’t helped things to move on. And even if that conflict was something I still have reservations over, I will not apologize for my actions in that conflict. I had an obligation to my men, and I hold fast to that principle today.”

Sigmus nodded. “I get it. Before I served here, I was a cabal with the Hierarchy. Served my time, did my part. Nothing as brutal or crazy as Relay 314, but I’ve seen my share of things. It was a little too intense for me, though, so when I transferred here I decided to stay. I like things here. I feel like I’m doing something good for everyone.”

The admiral glanced to his surroundings as Sigmus talked, listening as he did. His gaze never really rested anywhere, and it was clear to Sigmus over the course of his anecdotes that he was more interested in what he heard than what he saw. Part of him began to wonder if Providentius was even interested in the tour at all, at this point.

“It seems like a natural fit,” Providentius said finally. “Even if you aren’t part of the Hierarchy anymore, you still sound like most of our peers back in Hierarchy space.”

Sigmus gave a chuckle. “Do I? Well, I’m not entirely C-Sec. I still liaise for the Hierarchy on occasion; that’s how I got asked to show you around during your stay here.”

The admiral raised an eyebrow plate. “Really? From what my kin told me, you specifically requested the role.”

Sigmus felt blood rush under his plates and he quickly pulled his mandibles taught against his fringe to maintain composure. “Well, yes,” he admitted quietly. “I had heard that your fleet was part of the ships to help reinforce survivors. The Modalius guys in C-Sec were talking all about it. Most of what I’ve heard about you were from them.”

“Wanted to see if everything they told you about me was true, is it?” Providentius asked, a faint hint of amusement evident in the flange of his rumbling voice. “What did they say about me?”

“Well,” Sigmus murmured, “they weren’t wrong about how large you are.”

Providentius simply laughed.

 

***

 

“I’ve seen a few admirals make their way up to the Council Chambers, but it isn’t often. The Council gets petitioned by everybody, so it isn’t surprising to see them waiting on a massive backlog for months at a time.”

“Have you seen anybody else from the Hierarchy that has made official trips here?”

“Some primarchs come and go. It isn’t all that often, but it happens.”

The two made their way past the fountains and up the steps towards the Petitioner’s Stage, where Providentius glanced at the illuminated trees and the glass floor to the gardens below. It reminded him of some of the venues where he took part in the Hierarchy’s naval festivities, the stiff pleasantries that reinforced a thin, pleasant veneer over the mire that was intergalactic politics. He fought the urge to wrinkle his nose over the thought.

“Do you get to come here often?”

“No,” Sigmus shook his head. “Access to the tower is fairly restricted, and even less get access to the council. Leading you around gives me an excuse to get a pass, but most of the time I don’t really see a need to bother with all the stuff that goes up in here. It’s all politics, anyway.”

“I hear you,” Providentius rumbled. “Half the time I finish sitting through meetings on the Admiralty board I’m about ready to crush something between my claws.”

Sigmus grimaced. “I hope that doesn’t include your fellow turians.”

Providentius huffed. “Of course not...but don’t tell the other admirals that,” he added with a tiny grin. “It’s useful to keep clout with the others.”

“Hah!” Sigmus chuckled. “That’s one way to get things done. And don’t worry about that; I doubt any admiral would make time for me anyways, present company excluded.”

“They don’t make them like they used to, anymore,” Providentius lamented. “Always busy with their meetings and decisions by committee. I am not against collaboration, but when matters require expediency, I will always forego my vote if it means I can secure the lives of my men.”

Sigmus raised an eyebrow plate. “The Hierarchy doesn’t consider it a dereliction of duty whenever you don’t show up?”

“I have my means of circumventing the more cumbersome duties through support staff,” Providentius dismissed with a wave of his claw. “And since we are in a relative period of peace, I do not see much action that takes away from the administrative sides to my rank.”

The other turian nodded. “I get a few calls here and there, but they’ve really upped our presence in the months since the attack. Whenever I’m not walking the beat I’m doing paperwork, but there’s nothing too serious to make things interesting; not that I’m looking for action, anyway.”

“You’re okay with where you are?”

Sigmus put a claw up to his chin in thought. “I am...well, maybe not quite. Special Response has been good for mobility since my early days in Enforcement. But I’m not sure if I could get much higher than this.”

“If you believe that your career goals are to the benefit of others and the ones you care about, I don’t see the harm in such ambition,” Providentius encouraged. “If you are aware of your strengths and abilities and want to put them towards the common good, anybody worth their tier in the Hierarchy would promote you to best utilize your skills by the necessary means.”

“I don’t think the Hierarchy has a tier for Spectres.”

Providentius blinked, and considered Sigmus’ words. He stayed silent for some time before saying finally, “Spectres carry a heavy burden. I’m sure Councilor Sparatus has said something of the like before. You would be given immense power and authority, that which would supersede even mine...I admit, I have my reservations about the philosophy of such a class of soldier, but I am well aware that there are crises in the galaxy which require a response swifter and quieter than a warfleet. But I wonder how you see yourself in such a role, on the opposite side of the law.”

Sigmus stirred and replied at length. “Saren has left an ugly legacy for turians aspiring to serve as Spectres. I want to undo some of that, at least⏤to show people that power, or at least the kind that's entrusted to the Spectres, can be used responsibly, that the ability to do the job fast isn't worth as much as doing it _right_. Not all conflicts have to be resolved through bloodshed, not when you have biotics on your side. Still, being a Spectre is a big dream of mine...I'm just not sure if I'm ready for it. If I'll ever be."

“That would be a test of even my abilities,” Providentius mused.

Sigmus looked to the Admiral, his cyan eyes brightening. “You’re a biotic too?”

Providentius let a few blue wisps surround his large form. “Indeed. Mostly, I have made use of our ability to form barriers, and to apply overwhelming force when necessary. I am out of practice with the more finesse aspects of the craft, however. I am used to shielding large groups more than pulling individual objects or people, and other such fine-manipulation applications.”

“Did you ever serve in the Cabals?”

Providentius shook his head. “No. I’ve had sufficient training since conscription, but I had opted into leadership after I had finished my year of boot camp, and I kept that path when I pursued my career in the Navy.”

Sigmus stirred but said nothing, instead just nodding with a weighted gaze and motioning down the Council Tower steps. “Well, shall we take a trip down to the wards? I can show you what life is like on the precinct I oversee.”

The admiral had almost forgotten that he was on a tour. “Oh! That’s right, I still have a little more to see! Lead the way.”

As they walked down the steps from the Petitioner's Stage, Providentius noted that Sigmus fell silent; up until this point, they had been in consistent conversation with each other from the moment they first met. Now, they seemed to keep to themselves, and both turians stared out from the glass panels of the elevator as it took them back down to the Presidium. Providentius thought to ask something, but nothing emerged.

“Was being an Admiral something you wanted?”

Providentius heard these words and looked to Sigmus, who didn’t reciprocate eye contact. His attention and thoughts seemed to be directed elsewhere, even though the admiral suspected a hidden point lying beneath a seemingly innocent question. “Well, in a sense,” he supposed. “It was not an explicit goal of mine...but it does represent the lengths and the means I am willing to use to assist my men. Leadership is something I approach cautiously, but it is not something that ought to be treated as an anathema before we accept it.”

“You could’ve done that as a Cabal,” Sigmus pointed out. “You don’t sound like someone who would climb the Hierarchy ladder just for the higher pay or privileges that come with the higher ranks, and you act more like the grunts than you do the upper brass. You even spend most of your time with them. Why be an Admiral, then?”

Providentius considered Sigmus’ words as they stepped out from the lift. Only a short distance away, the elevators to the Tayseri wards delivered people to and from the Presidium, resting at the bottom of a few more flights of stairs into the ring’s interior.

“Truthfully, the rank of this position holds no particular pull for me,” the Admiral began, grimacing a little as he did. “I served as a soldier in much the same way I do now; mostly, an Admiral’s duty is to act for the good of his country and his people. That is what I have always strived for. It takes a different shape and form compared to the men on the front line, but it is no less important.”

The lift to the Tayseri ward arrived, and the two turians walked inside. With largely empty corridors and the night cycle just beginning, the doors behind them closed with no other arrivals. They stood alone on the way down.

“So it’s just a matter of scale to you?”

Providentius shook his head. “Not necessarily. The Hierarchy determined that the effort I have put into my goals fit the sizeable responsibility they have put on my shoulders, and I’m humbled and honored to live up to those expectations.”

Sigmus winced. It was an act that did not go without notice to Providentius.

“Were similar things expected of you?”

The other turian did not answer until they reached the bottom. As the doors opened, Sigmus exited without a word, and Providentius followed, expectant but quiet. They passed between wide streets of skyscrapers illuminated with a lattice of lights that glimmered in the nebula sky. Providentius was just about to retract his question when Sigmus spoke.

“Biotics are something special to me,” Sigmus began. He spoke as if he were reading a diary rather than speaking directly to Providentius. “When I first showed signs of it, I had seen it as a gift, something I could do good with; my father had other plans for me. He wanted me to succeed, the officer’s path, in fact. He was a Captain in the fleet.”

Providentius’ gaze swiftly fell.

“I chose to pursue my talents after boot camp,” Sigmus continued. “I went into the Cabals as soon as I finished. It didn’t go over well with him. ‘Strange’ and ‘improper,’ he called it. We didn’t speak much after I was deployed. While I was out…”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Providentius cut in. “If this is too painful, I won’t force you to relive those memories.”

Sigmus laughed sadly. It was a low chuckle, something that almost seemed to choke his words, and it stopped with a clear, heavy weight on the turian’s shoulders. “I haven’t talked about this in awhile. It feels...better, to try and do so. If nothing else, it helps me process things. I was deployed when my parents ran into some sort of alien pathogen. The doctors couldn’t figure out what it was, and I only received the news of their death second-hand from a notice sent by high command. They showed up at my barracks one day with their talon daggers, and…yeah. I was fortunate enough to be with my squad at the time. They’re good people, and we’ve been through hell together.”

The Admiral was at a loss for words, and couldn’t muster anything to say.

“Thanks for listening to me.”

Blinking, Providentius looked at Sigmus, who’s softened gaze and relaxed mandibles reassured the admiral somewhat that he was feeling better.

“It’s the least I could do.”

Providentius did not remember much of Sigmus’ tour through the wards, though he tried his best to keep his attention on the present sights and features that Tayseri Ward offered. He remembered the lights in the violet night, and the glimpses he caught of the turian ships that passed overhead in the far distance, always wondering if the ones he saw were part of his own. It was impossible to tell, and in a way it did not matter. He was a bulwark for the Hierarchy, and the Hierarchy in turn served as the Council’s. It was not difficult to make the leap of mandate.

“We are not so different, you and I,” the admiral heard himself say.

“Really?” Sigmus asked, his tone only half-incredulous; the other half of him seemed to brighten at the thought. “I’m having a hard time imagining how I stack up comparing to an Admiral like you. Physically speaking, at least.”

Providentius offered a lopsided smile. “We are of different ranks, and we took the other path in the crossroads we shared, but in the end I do not think it has kept us from understanding one another, and what we truly value. That hasn’t changed for either of us, those acts of service and the desire to produce good in this galaxy. You don’t have to be an admiral to accomplish that, or someone of incredible strength, or even be a biotic. We use the talents we are given so that others may benefit, and that is something that I think is always worth recognizing.”

Sigmus considered Providentius’ words, and reciprocated the smile. “Yeah...thanks. I haven’t been able to talk about these things in awhile, or have an excuse to relax for a day that’s turned out as well as this.”

“Neither have I.”

The two spent the rest of their time stargazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigmus Sekorian belongs to @sektoth on twitter!


	4. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Providentius keeps a tight ship, and puts high demands on his crew and soldiers. Not many would readily call him a forgiving man, but that's only because they haven't been with him long enough. Not to say he's soft, but he believes in second chances. You'll have to earn that lost trust back, though." - Sergeant Korlus Modalius, Hierarchy Force Recon

“Was this truly necessary?”

“Given what we paid to clean up the consequences of the Rachni Wars? I don’t blame the Hierarchy for this.”

Providentius didn’t answer, and his compatriot left to attend his duties. From his view on the bridge, Providentius looked out at the colony in front of him; from what he read of the reports, their unknown enemy called it “Shanxi.” At the edge of the system orbited Relay 314, with an unknown terminus leading to space that, for all the turians knew, hid away something worse than Rachni. In the days since their war against a first-encounter alien species, Providentius had never seen anything emerge from the other end of Relay 314. The only thing he stared at was the tiny flares of fiery ruin, visible from orbit, that bloomed into view from the smouldering planet. It had been almost a month since his deployment to the flashpoint crisis, and Providenious saw nothing but what the results of their violence to the enemy. It was a war based off of a violated policy that the aliens could not be reasonably aware of.

To the captain, it felt less like a war and more like an excessive crackdown. Whoever they faced, their grasp on Prothean technology was rudimentary at best; it achieved a basic manipulation of element zero in weaponized mass drivers and kinetic barriers, as well as the basis for conventional starship engine design. It was still modern by any standard, but nothing like the advances that Citadel species enjoyed from many years of cooperation and shared development. Thus far, his ground teams had yet to encounter evidence of automatic firearms development; the rifles and pistols retrieved from the enemy used semi-automatic mechanisms to control the heat buildup inherent in the design.

Despite their adversary’s disadvantage, the Hierarchy maintained its usual doctrine of keeping a planetary siege. From the safety of orbit, total aerospace superiority, and controlled occupation of the alien’s primary population and governance centers, they could simply starve the enemy out rather than risk an assault. Casualties would be an inevitability, even when they held most of the advantages.

Providentius himself was not in a place where he could give protest. Had he served in a more authoritative capacity, he could have conferred with the Admiral of the fleet or General Desolas about the ethics of their actions.

Not that the latter would have embraced the idea, Providentius thought to himself. Desolas didn’t seem keen to do much beyond his interest to advance the turian race into a height above that of their current peers. In his silence, Providentius stirred, his thoughts deepening.

“Captain Providentius?”

The massive turian heard and turned to the communications officer that addressed him. “I’m listening. What is it?”

“Per your request, I’ve got a sitrep of our men on the ground. One of our recon teams were marking targets of resistance when they encountered an enemy ambush. They escaped, and all men were accounted for...save for one listed as MIA, presumed captured. It is likely they will interrogate him.”

Providentius’ crimson and gold visage darkened. “These aliens do not adhere themselves to any Citadel conventions, including the laws of war.”

“No sir.”

By the time that he heard the reply, Providentius had already departed the hangar and made a beeline for the armory. “Prepare a shuttle and a special forces team for me. Give me the last location of our recon squad, and notify them of my arrival; I will brief them within the hour. Give Fenriux command of the bridge while I’m gone.”

“On your orders, Captain.”

Once in the armory, Providentius withdrew a phaeston from one of the rifle racks and searched for his combat suit, a thick and heavy array of ceramic armor plating that was strapped to a sturdy undersuit. Soon after, a team of several turians entered, and withdrew a range of rifles, pistols, and other weaponry that they holstered on their armors’ magnetic locks. When they had finished arming themselves, they addressed Providentius with a quick salute.

“Captain,” the foremost of them spoke. “Master Sergeant Haedus, Pararescue division of the 24th SF, reporting in! What’s the mission sir?”

Providentius looked and nodded to each soldier in the group. “Thank you for coming on short notice. As of two hours ago, a reconnaissance team was ambushed, and one of their number was captured by the enemy. We expect him to be interrogated by whatever means they have available to them. Therefore, I have elected to spearhead a rescue mission before the enemy can extract intelligence that will jeopardize the rest of our activities in the area. We’ll be taking a shuttle down to rendezvous with the main group and form a plan of rescue from there.”

The group made a beeline from the armory to the hangar a short distance away. “What are the rules of engagement, sir? Will we have fire support from our orbiting fleet?”

Providentius shook his head. “No. The risk to harming noncombatants are too high. You are authorized to retaliate if you are fired upon, but do not engage if they do not know we have made contact; the rescue of our lost man is top priority.”

Upon reaching the hangar, the captain and his men entered into one of the shuttles and took off, departing straight for the main settlement in Shanxi. Escorting them were a pair of fighters that peeled off and returned the cruiser just as Providentius and his men entered the atmosphere.

The men remained silent throughout their descent, and a few stared out at the remains of the colony. Several buildings stood on the verge of crumbling. In many places, gaping holes where mass drivers punched through the superstructure billowed with smoke. The surface was pockmarked in craters and scars. Nobody inside the shuttles remarked about what they all saw.

When the shuttles touched down, the Providentius spotted several shapes emerge in the distance, just beyond a clearing in the forest where the ground cover consisted of tall grass that swayed with the changes in the breeze. The new arrivals held their rifles at low-ready, and from their sharp silhouettes they were clearly turian. Providentius signaled his men to follow behind, and they made haste to meet them.

“Captain Providentius, sir!” one of the scouts saluted and stepped forward. “Corporal Vulcanus of the 33rd Force Reconnaissance Platoon! You came personally to help us rescue our captured man?”

Providentius nodded. “I am overseeing this action, yes. Who from your team was taken by the enemy?”

“2nd Lieutenant Seprinus, sir! He was leading an element of our men near the enemy settlement when they ambushed us. We lost a few men and were cut off from Seprinus before they surrounded him. I made the decision to retreat, and he was taken back into the settlement.”

“Did you track where he was taken?”

“Yes sir! They’re keeping him isolated in a camp outside of the main settlement. It’s fortified with enemy armor and some basic kinetic barriers. They have a perimeter of sensors a few light patrols of men and drones.”

Providentius nodded. “Very well. If you have a layout of unit positioning, topography, and anything else that’ll help, send it to Sergeant Haedus. Once we have a plan of action, we’ll move out and start the rescue immediately.”

 

***

 

“Incoming!”

The warning did little to help the humans who screamed. In the instant that followed, the shockwave from the munitions sent to his position turned him and everything else within a 15 foot radius into a smoldering crater. Several others like it dotted the surroundings of the compound as a swarm of turian fighters made continuous, lethal sweeps over the base. The burnt out chassis of tanks, empty and catastrophically destroyed, acted as marks of progress for the rescue.

From their vantage point on a nearby hill, the special forces' air controller specialist lay prone alongside the recon team, spotting targets and directing the airstrikes on the encampment below. Over the horizon, they observed a flight of several shuttles making a beeline towards the human encampment. The shuttle hatches were open, and they could see the thin silhouette of the door guns as the shuttles approached the area of operation.

Providentius stood inside of one of the shuttles with a firm grasp on the ceiling handles as they flew in. They skimmed low across the ground, and the shuttles’ gunners opened fire on the humans that scurried away from their rapid advance. Some continued running. Others fell. Occasionally, the captain would glimpse the brief flash of passing anti-air rockets and the white plumes of their smoke trails. They attacked in sporadic salvos, and despite a few near-misses, the rescue team never wavered from their vector, and did not stop until they reached the base.

The rescue team swiftly dispatched the remaining humans that stayed to fight. By the time that they touched the ground, they had all but secured the immediate area. Providentius and his pararescue team flooded out of the shuttles with their weapons drawn and kept level for any enemy they might encounter. In the end, they only encountered corpses. Having secured their immediate position, Providentius and his team quickly formed a defensive perimeter around the camp. From the remaining available soldiers, Providentius picked Haedus and a few of his men to breach the interior of main complex, a four-room compound with small windows and inactive lights. Haedus ran ahead of Providentius, his team close in tow. They stacked up beside the entrance to the building, and when everyone was in position Haedus slapped a breaching charge on the door.

The turians rushed in as soon as the blast of the explosion reached their ears. Providentius, being one of the last inside, heard several bursts of gunfire before he witnessed its aftermath inside. Several humans lay sprawled in various corners, each in a growing pool of red on the floor. Haedus continued to advance after giving confirmation that the room was clear, and they stepped over the bodies of the fallen as they pushed deeper into the complex. Shouts from human voices came from down the corridors, and the flanged voice of a single turian some distance away and around a corner they encountered in the hallway. As the rescue team approached the turn, the voices stopped, and resumed quickly in short bursts. The turian with them fell silent.

Haedus raised his claw and nodded to Providentius once. With coordinated, swift action, they rounded the corner, the captain’s arm outstretched and ablaze in blue wisps as he summoned a barrier that he projected to fill the entire space of the corridor directly in front of them. Providentius looked to see two armored humans, their assault rifles already raised and firing. Flashes of light erupted where their bullets impacted the barrier and caused the field to flicker, but not fade. With every failed shot, the humans grew more panicked until their weapons overheated. As soon as Providentius saw steam erupt from the heat sink, he dropped the barrier to allow his men to return fire. With four quick shots at the head, two for each human, Haedus and his soldiers dropped them. Behind the dead stood the turian, his hands raised in surrender.

Seprinus was only a little taller than the humans that he was in company with. Providentius dwarfed him to the extent that a large portion of the Captain’s shadow fell over the smaller turian. Providentius narrowed his eyes and moved forward.

“2nd Lieutenant Seprinus?” he asked. “I’m Captain Providentius of the cruiser _Indomitable_. We’ve come to rescue you.”

“That isn’t important now!” Seprinus exclaimed. “We’ve all been mistaken; this isn’t there homeworld, it’s a colony! There’s more out there, and now they’re bringing in reinforcements! We have to evacuate! Our only hope is to involve the Council and get them to broker a ceasefire.”

Providentius blinked, and confusion was evident on all the extraction team present. “How do you know this? Weren’t you captured? Didn’t they restrain you?”

A short pause preceded Seprinus’ reply. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I left my unit when we were ambushed, and I approached the humans. I surrendered, and I told them everything I knew willingly. They now know our fleet positions and where our troops are deployed.”

The hall fell deathly silent.

“This is your doing?” Providentius asked quietly.

Seprinus took a breath. “I have a wife. She’s expecting, and still she wanted to be deployed here. I didn’t want her to risk her life and our child’s. And with the war about to escalate…”

Suddenly, Providentius heard Fenriux break through his helmet's speakers on the emergency comm channel. “Providentius, the fleet is under attack!”

The captain’s claw shot straight to his helmet. “What? Fenriux, report!”

Alarms on the _Indomitable_ blared around Fenriux, who stared with widened eyes at holographic projections of several ships that jumped into view right above the turian fleet. It was all too clear that the flank of their entire orbiting formation lay exposed to the mass drivers of the enemy’s reinforcements.

“Several ships just emerged from FTL right on top of us! Our enemy has brought an entire fleet! We need you back at the bridge now!”

Providentius glanced to Seprinus, who looked to the floor and avoided everyone’s gaze. Providentius bared his teeth. “My duty now is to save not only you, but all the turians whose lives you’ve jeopardized today. You will be held in account of your actions later.”

Before anyone could object, Providentius motioned harshly to Haedus and his team. “Go. Gather everyone else and get to the shuttle. We dust off as soon as possible. Speak of this to no one.”

Haedus nodded wordlessly and departed quickly with his men, leaving Providentius alone with Seprinus. With a tilt of his head, the larger turian led the other out of the complex, where the recon and the pararescue team gathered to board the shuttle. In the skies above, the captain glimpsed the fiery re-entry of several fighters. As they neared, Providentius did not recognize any of the tiny silhouettes. All signs pointed to hostile fighters. He looked to Seprinus again, who hesitated to board. “Hurry! Climb aboard!”

After a few seconds in hesitation, Seprinus stepped inside, and the doors closed the instant before the shuttle’s engines roared to life and kicked them off from the ground. The force of the hasty take-off rattled the troops inside, and Providentius held fast to the handles where his claw found purchase as they rocketed towards the sky.

“ _Indomitable_ , this is Captain Providentius, we’ve secured the VIP and are making our way back. We’ve got enemy fighters inbound and require escort. Can you give us some cover?”

“I’ll do better than that,” Fenriux growled in reply. “Hold on, I’ll break formation and draw their fire, take some of the heat off you and take out your pursuers in a single stroke.”

“Negative,” Providentius replied tersely. “Protect the fleet and keep rear-guard. I only need an interceptor squadron.”

“I can’t guarantee your survival with just a few strike craft,” Fenriux insisted. “You are risking your own life!”

“Have a little faith in our pilots. We don’t have time to discuss this.”

Snarling, Fenriux turned and shot a claw out to one of his communications officers. “You! Get all available ships we can into the air! Screen the captain’s shuttle at all costs! The fighters will run cover for the fleet as it makes it a run for the relay!”

Providentius, meanwhile, glared to Seprinus, his visage stark and angered, but said nothing. Seprinus kept his gaze fixed on the floor and didn’t move. The others looked on in silence.

 

***

 

Despite the slew of accolades and medals that they received over the course of the conflict, Providentius’ greatest pride was never having lost a unit in combat.

He remembered little of Seprinus’ trial that followed. It was a quiet affair, just as he wanted it to be. Turian surrender in the face of the enemy was almost unconscionable, certainly not when there was still opportunity to resist the enemy. As far as Providentius was concerned, Seprinus had derelicted both his ethics and his duty out of fear for his family. He remembered the Lieutenant’s concerns for his wife, who still wanted to serve despite her development, and that Seprinus sought to escalate the conflict quickly enough for the Citadel council to take swift notice and intervene before she could be deployed. That too, led to a storm of inquiries and buried secrets, to say nothing of the resentment from the turians who knew that Seprinus was at least in part responsible for their losses. For his own part, Providentius tried to minimize the fallout, knowing the consequences that Seprinus faced would come from more than just the punishment meted out by the court. He also knew that his own Modalius wouldn’t have done any different, if such a conflict of interest ever arose. The only difference with Seprinus’ case was that he lacked such a support network.

“Admiral Providentius?”

The massive turian heard and turned to the communications officer that addressed him. “Yes? You have something for me?”

“A small ship is approaching the fleet formation. We’re being hailed, sir.”

Providentius nodded. “Very well. Clear his approach, and pull the ship’s captain on vidcom.”

Within a few moments, Providentius stared at a barefaced turian, marred and burned.

“Admiral, this is Atticus Kirik,” the turian introduced himself, speaking quickly. “I carry vital data that requires your help! There’s a slave ship full of cargo that’s passing close to the Hierarchy-Terminus border!”

As Providentius peered to the hologram, he dimly remembered overhearing Seprinus suffering an acid attack, just prior to his disappearance from the Hierarchy. Even now, he heard a familiar voice, and stared at the same color of plates and hide, along with a noticeable lack of markings that usually accompanied it.

“...Atticus, was it?” the admiral began, slowly. “You are deep into turian space, and you don’t seem to be from the Hierarchy. Why notify me of a border issue when there’s other patrols that already cover those routes?”

“I needed to find someone I could trust,” replied the other turian, the pleading in his gaze evident. “I’ve tried asking other fleets, and they wouldn’t listen!”

Providentius’ skepticism grew. “Give me the names of the others you have contacted and the coordinates of the slave ships, and I will arrange a proper response.”

A pause. As Providentius waited for Atticus to reply, he wondered if Seprinus would admit to the alias, or if he would simply let the matter go and continue on his way. Part of the Admiral imagined that “Atticus” did not trust anyone outside of a select few to reveal his real identity. The other part wondered if Seprinus would risk his own safety again for the sake of a just cause.

His answer came when his comms personnel reported, “Incoming data transmission. We’ve got coordinates to a location in the Caestus system.”

Providentius returned his attention to Seprinus with a curt nod. “Very well. Can you give me the names of the other naval officers you approached with this information? I would like this information to be corroborated before acting on your word.”

“I…” Seprinus hesitated, but then finally admitted, “I only sought you out. You’re the only one I trust. You have a good reputation for being true and honorable compared to the rest of the Hierarchy leadership. You’re known for caring about your men. Aren’t you willing to help others who need it most?”

The bridge crew and helmsman of the dreadnought glanced back to Providentius with looks of confusion and suspicion. Out of the corner of his vision, the Admiral spied his gunners on the bridge keep their claws close to the firing controls, and he returned his attention to Seprinus swiftly.

“I am willing, and I will not be let fear stop me from acting in defense of the helpless. Even if you are leading me into a trap, I would not particularly worry; you would once again be able to glimpse the full wrath of the Hierarchy’s Home Defense Fleet. I hope that you will not disappoint my trust in you.”

“You won’t,” Seprinus reassured him. “Besides, I know the mistakes I’ve made in life. It’s time that I atone for them while I have the chance.”

Providentius smiled a little, and then nodded to his helmsman. “Admiral to bridge. Set a course for the Terminus Systems and alert the fleet; we’re on rescue duty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seprinus belongs to @JosephCshnDavis on Twitter!


	5. Orders and Operations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Loyalty to family first, to Hierarchy second. But if you have to make the distinction between the two, then you haven’t done your job properly.” - Elder Aldian Modalius

“Who among our number took sides with the Separatists?”

“Unknown at this time. The Hierarchy has clamped down on all outbound and inbound communications. If we attempted to find out, we’d be putting our entire people under scrutiny.”

Providentius wrinkled his nose, and glanced to his sister, who returned his stare with a helpless shrug. “I can’t imagine many did, if at all. The few who might’ve entertained the idea of independence would have thought twice about the cost, now that Facinus destroyed Vallum and most of the people in it. Many of our own were caught in that blast.”

Aska grimaced and crossed her arms. “You’d be surprised. A lot of the people who’ve settled into colony life have grown used to the autonomy. Even if they don’t support the separatists militarily, they’d probably agree with their principles, at least in part. All the colonies support Palaven, but beyond the fleet and the patrols, you don’t hear of anything from Palaven being given to support the colonies in return.”

“The fleets should be all they need,” Providentius growled. “We offer them protection, and the means for them to maintain their interstellar trade and infrastructure without fear of piracy.

“From some perspectives, we just ride in, take their hard-earned produce, fuel and munitions, and move on.”

Providentius snorted. “The Modalius, even if they grew up on the colonies, should know better. It took the Hierarchy on Palaven to unite the disparate colonies from their petty infighting during the Unification War. Of all the disparate turians, only the crimson starbird of our kind maintained an unbroken heritage of unity across all Hierarchy space.”

“Is that peace really preferable to a chance at liberty?”

Providentius huffed. “That's for the primarchs to decide.” He turned and began to depart from the CIC, and Aska followed behind her brother. From a distance, the two looked almost identical in build; both towered over their peers, and rivaled each other in their expression of raw physical strength. The only difference was in the shape of their fringes, and crew they passed by gave the two a wide berth to allow them unrestricted passage.

“I thought you’d be more understanding,” Aska remarked, “given your particularly close ties to Nivious.”

Providentius made a face. “He’s also a Council Spectre; I can count on him to remain objective and fight for the common good of all, and not just his home colony.”

“I doubt he sees it in the same way.”

“Perhaps not, but then I doubt he sees Vallum the same way the Facinus does.”

Aska stopped her pace and looked her brother directly in the eye, dropping all pretense. “My point is this: how will you react if we end up discovering his presence on Taetrus? What about our own kin who we might see with Facinus in the Diluvian Wildlands?”

“If Nivious is there, I would know about it,” Providentius replied stiffly. “It isn’t like him to keep something so important behind my back, especially if there was a chance we’d both end up crossing paths on the battlefield. As for the Modalius, we know where we stand with the Hierarchy; anybody who considers Vallum a worthwhile sacrifice has forsaken their people.”

Aska remained unconvinced, but shrugged and resumed her pace. “Hope you’re right about that.”

“We also have Spectres of our own we can lean on for contact,” Providentius added. “Zylar has worked with Nivious and many of our brethren before; if I needed to, I could ask him.”

“If he can hear you,” Aska replied with a chuckle. I’m still not convinced that man hasn’t lost hearing after all those demolitions he works with.”

“He is used to the means he has chosen to work with,” Providentius reassured her. “But I doubt he’d be able to handle the kind of explosive ordinance you’re used to. And everybody here prefers the kind dropped from starfighters,” he added, chuckling slightly.

Aska grinned with him. “So when are we departing to Taetrus? I take it you and the brass have a plan in mind.”

By this time, the siblings had returned from the CIC to the Admiral’s place on the bridge, overlooking the crew at the helm below. While they busied themselves keeping the ship on its vector to the relay, the field officers were abuzz in a hive of activity, coordinating bunk space and other necessary accommodations for the new arrivals that they’d ferry planetside.

“We have yet to gather the last of the marine divisions heading to Taetrus,” Providentius recalled. “General Partinax has requested to bolster the colony garrison with six additional divisions. When we’re finished mustering our portion of the troops, we’ll set course for the Mactare system.”

“And what about you?” Aska asked, eyeing her sibling with a knowing glance. “I take it you’ll be heading to the surface to help lead the marines?”

“If my presence is required,” supposed the Admiral with a huff. “But I imagine Partinax would not fully embrace the idea of another senior officer potentially countermanding his orders and general strategy.”

“You can just reassure him that you’re more interested in fighting than strategizing,” Aska replied with a mandible-flared grin. “Plus, I doubt he’d complain as much when he sees the kind of air support we’ll be giving him.”

“Sometimes I envy that,” Providentius, a slight scowl marring his visage. “Nobody complains when you have fast-movers and gunships providing cover overhead, but it’s rare to see happy infantryman, especially where battle is involved.”

Aska’s grin faded to a quiet smile, but it remained steady all the same. “Hey, it’s not everyday they see a titan like you standing with them and braving the same kind of fire they step into regularly. That’s no small boon to their morale; everybody on the fleet here can attest to that.”

Providentius shifted on his feet, and scratched the back of his fringe. The tell-tale signs of his relative embarrassment were clear, but so was his gratefulness. “Hm, fair enough. Thankfully, General Partinax himself seems to be a man of action also, and doesn't shy away from fighting alongside his soldiers. I hear he’s an accomplished duelist with the mexta, and also versed well in firearms.”

“What’s his record?”

“He’s survived seven bouts thus far. Five were to first blood. The other two were lethal.”

Aska nodded, crossing her arms. “Hm. Not bad. He should try taking you on sometime.”

Providentius laughed and shook his head. “Only if he was interested in that sort of thing. I’d prefer it to be a fight that had no pretense of pride or honor to hinder us, and nothing to suffer wounds over. Just a contest of our strength and wits.”

“Well, you have him clearly beat in one department,” Aska murmured.

“Yes, I suppose I have studied the art of war for longer than him,” her brother joked, which elicited a chuckle from both of them.

“You know what I mean!” Aska added afterwards. “And you didn’t just get your rank by brute force alone. Or your wits, for that matter. The quality of your character has been apparent to everybody since serving in the Navy. Few live up to such high expectations. If more turians knew that people like you were on their side, maybe we wouldn’t have a civil war on our hands.”

At this, Providentius fell silent, and his gaze became unfocused as he considered Aska’s words. He stared out at the bridge to the starry expanse, and grasped the railing of the upper level tightly. “I myself was not aware of how dire the situation had become. We had reports of a cruiser that was hijacked and crashed on Taetrus earlier, but I took it to be an isolated event, and that the colony had heightened security measures following the tragedy. It’s clear that we have underestimated the desperation and the resolve of the separatists there. Perhaps, if we had listened earlier to their grievances, they might have been willing to talk...”

“If there was a time for that,” Aska lamented, “it’s long past now. You won’t have to worry about me, though, or your crew. We’re behind you on this one. All the Modalius are. The ones who aren’t will have to make that choice soon.”

Providentius sighed. “That will have to be enough.”

 

***

 

“ _Pioneer. Mission Cheer. Without Fear._ What does that mean?”

“It’s a creed,” Providentius replied. “Or perhaps it’s better translated as ‘mission statement’.”

“Is that how you see it?”

Providentius nodded. “Turians don’t conceptualize a distinction between doing and being; we are what we do. The Modalius are many things, but mavericks are not one of them. Throughout the entire heritage of the clan, every people that has been grafted into its branches have worked together with the singular purpose of benefiting the turian people. We do not serve in self-interest.”

“Your people’s shipyards and engineers don’t operate for profit, then?”

Providentius hesitated. “We provide for the welfare of our people first and foremost. Those who invest their resources and work into our legacy are properly compensated for their contributions, as it should be. But all of our work is done in service to the Hierarchy. So long as it serves the need of its constituents, we will be loyal and support its mission. To date, we have not been disappointed in their policies.”

“There are many who appear to have fallen through the cracks of the system, but you seem to be doing more than just serving your government. You take contracts from outside entities. Sometimes you even hire them.”

Narrowing his eyes, Providentius replied matter-of-factly to the given observation. “We are aware that the Hierarchy is imperfect, as any system of governance is. It exists to serve the majority of common interests. Those that are not must still be provided for, but this does not necessarily have to be at the expense of the greater whole. The Modalius may be nationalized, but the Hierarchy recognizes and rewards talent. The Hierarchy can benefit through our hiring of peoples beyond our own, and we compensate them appropriately. We have a widespread appreciation for skill and work ethic, no matter a person’s background, species or affiliations. And last I checked, the Systems Alliance has had no qualms with our practices.”

“I’m not here to antagonize you, Admiral. I’m simply curious, and not without purpose. If we are to work together, I would like to make an accurate assessment of your people’s limits to the resources that you are offering in exchange for our services.”

“You will find our support satisfactory,” Providentius growled. “Despite my personal reservations regarding this arrangement, I will not go against the decisions made by the heads of family. You will have my full support, including the access to my ships, troops, and starfighters when the time is ready.”

“Good. I’m glad to see that we’re on the same side. When it is needed, you’ll see that our mission objectives will be obvious enough. I only hope you are ready for it.”

Providentius huffed. “Aren’t I always?”


	6. On Leadership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Hierarchy’s Anthem talks about dying for the cause. It doesn’t say anything about living for it.” - Zylar Modalius, Council Spectre

“Pherios to bridge. Admiral?”

Around them, flashes of light from the near-misses of enemy fire illuminated the starry void around the fleet. Providentius stood on the command deck overlooking the helm, his gaze fixed straight ahead of him as the bridge displays projected the formation of his fleet against that of his enemy. Every so often, the incoming fire revealed for an instant the Admiral’s crimson starbird overlaying his dark fringe, and put a flash over his gold eyes. With his claws clasped behind his back, he directed his comms back to his intelligence team. 

“Bridge to CIC. What do you have for me, Pherios?”

“Several fighters have broken off the main group. They seem to be screening a series of shuttles making a beeline to the  _ Resolute _ . Her captain reports that her kinetic barriers are down and she’s forced to auxiliary power. They’re being flanked, but the pirates have stopped shooting. It’s likely they will try to board.”

Providentius’ reply was swift. “Divert squadrons 4 through 6 to cover their retreat and engage the boarding party, and dispatch the  _ Indomitable  _ and  _ Ardent Cause _ to reinforce her position until they restore main power.”

“They’re right in the middle of the main dogfight,” Pherios warned. “It is unlikely they will be able to break engagement without picking up a few tails. I recommend we take a few marines to help hold the frigate just in case a few of the boarders get through.”

Snarling, Providentius turned to his brother, who had his back turned to him directing some of the other ships in the fleet. “Fenriux! Take the bridge and get me a strike team to depart towards the  _ Resolute _ and fend off any boarding actions. We'll help the crew get her operational enough to make a hasty retreat!”

Nodding quickly, Fenriux strode quickly over to the Admiral’s place and began issuing orders, while Providentius made a beeline to the armory. To his surprise, he found his intelligence analyst in a suit of combat armor and glancing quickly over the racks of firearms.

“Pherios?”

The turian in question, a man of considerable height and athletic build, turned to address the Admiral with a quick nod. “Providentius. I request that I accompany the strike team assisting to the  _ Resolute _ .”

As he spoke, several marines entered behind Providentius and withdrew Phaestons and various sidearms, a storm of activity where the Admiral and his analyst stood in the eye. Pherios’ grim visage remained resolute.

“And what is your intentions behind such a request?” Providentius asked, crossing his arms. “Fenriux will already be short-handed managing the affairs of this ship while coordinating the overall fleet efforts. He will not be as effective in managing our defense without your sensor reports.”

“You could stand at the bridge and help direct the fleet, but you choose to personally help see the mission through. I want to do the same,” Pherios replied, the clarity of his adamant stance strong through the flange of his voice. “Fenriux can handle things here for long enough until we both return.”

Providentius, though hesitant, acquiesced. “Very well,” he said finally. “Arm yourself and follow us to the hangar. The rest of you, follow me.”

On the bridge, Fenriux already fell into the familiar rhythms and flow of battle command, his predatory gaze darting from various displays and to individuals who fed him reports of the unfolding chaos. His movements, though sharp, were executed with smooth, fluid swiftness, and he seemed comfortable in his own element. “ _ Ascendant Justice _ to Talon Lead. What’s your status?”

“We read you Fenriux,” came the reply. “Talon has engaged bandits and joined the furball. What do you have for us?”

“The  _ Resolute  _ has lost power and is at risk of falling into enemy hands. The Admiral is taking a strike team to board the ship and repel enemy boarding attempts. Their shuttle will require cover.”

“Solid copy  _ Justice _ . I’ll divert my squadron to fly escort. Talon 5, Talon 6, screen our break, we’re bugging out!”

When Providentius had entered the hangar, two teams followed behind him, a team of armed marines and a team of engineers. Pherios quickly joined up from the rear, and followed them all into a combat shuttle, which took off promptly and hurtled towards the listing frigate, flanked by six Hierarchy fighters that escorted them soon after they emerged from the dreadnought's hangar.

The Admiral looked to Pherios and the two teams he assembled for the mission. “We’ll be making a combat drop into the hangar. Be prepared for any eventuality. Pherios, guard the engineering team while they make their way towards the  _ Resolute _ ’s main reactor. I will accompany the guard team to secure the bridge. If you need assistance, don’t hesitate to call for it. We’ll send a team if necessary.”

“It won’t be,” Pherios reassured the admiral, a quiet confidence evident in his tone. Providentius’ gaze lingered but he said nothing further. 

As the shuttles neared, their escort broke formation and quickly turned back to engage the pirates, leaving the away team to quickly disembark from the hangar when they landed. As soon as Providentius and Pherios stepped out of the doors, they split ways with their respective teams as they approached their objectives. Providentius took the lifts to the bridge while Pherios led his team to the drive core. As Pherios neared the reactor, he signaled for his team to take up defensive positions around all points of entry, and then led the rest of the specialists to meet with the  _ Resolute _ ’s crew.

“Who’s in charge here?” Pherios asked quickly. “We’re here to help with getting the engines back online and repel any boarding actions until we can get the ship back behind the main battle line.”

“Thanks for the reinforcements, sir,” replied one of the turians overseeing the crew that hastily tinkered with the assemblage of panels and displays surrounding the element zero core. “Engineering chief Teriax, reporting! We’re trying to shunt what non-essential power we can to backup systems and regain impulse control. Where’s the admiral? I heard he was coming.”

“The admiral is securing the bridge,” Pherios explained. “I’m here to help defend this room in case of a boarding action.”

Promptly, the intercoms blared in alarms that reverberated throughout the frigate’s interior. “Hull breach, hull breach. Multiple unknown heat signatures detected throughout decks 9 and 12. All units, prepare for contact.”

Pherios looked back towards the entrance to the room and gave Teriax as best a reassuring nod as he could. “Work as quickly as you can. I’ll keep you covered.”

As Teriax nodded and returned his attention to the drive core, Pherios took a small breath and focused his mind. Wisps of blue-violet flame surrounded his frame and then expanded outwards into a virtually indistinct field. His subordinates glanced to him warily.

“You’re a biotic?” one asked. “Shouldn’t you be assigned to one of the Cabal units?”

“Just keep your heads down and your eyes peeled,” Pherios replied tersely. He did not deign to take his own advice; he stood in the middle of the hallway and didn’t seem to mind that he lay totally exposed to cover. When the first wave of boarders broke into the hallway, they immediately levelled their weapons at Pherios and opened fire. The combatants on either side of Pherios expected him to die on the spot, but instead they saw their kinetic rounds suddenly slow and glance harmlessly off Pherios’ shields, which offered little more than a flicker to register that it hit his person. Promptly, the lieutenant and his shoulders returned fire, and their rounds did not delay, and struck the pirates with lethal force. They crumbled to the ground just as Pherios heard the admiral’s voice over comms.

“Lieutenant Pherios? What’s your status?”

The junior officer’s reply was swift. “We’ve just fended off a few pirates here. Is the bridge secure?”

“We’ve had our share but we’re handling it. Do you have an estimate on when the engines will be back online?”

“We’re working on it, sir,” Pherios replied quickly. “We’ll let the helm know as soon as we’ve got impulse control back.”

Providentius kept his arm extended out, aglow in his own biotics as he kept his barrier erected over the doorway. “We’ll hold out for as long as you need. Make it happen, out.”

Pherios nodded and cut communications, wincing a little as he did. He had not used his biotics outside of anything other than simulations before, and never had to sustain the field for this long. He was reaching his limit; if he kept it up now, he would not have the strength to keep up his trick for much longer. 

On the bridge, Providentius hunkered down and signaled his fire team to do the same when several grenades landed near the entrance. When they exploded, Providentius immediately smelled smoke and began to back up from the bridge. A team of Krogan burst through the veil and charged straight towards Providentius. In the instant before contact, the admiral instinctively steadied his footing as much as he could and braced himself to take the brunt of the impact. By then it was far too close for his team to attempt a shot. Providentius felt a hard force punch through his armor, removing his footing enough so that he had to readjust and push back from a new stance and forcing a pained gasp from his otherwise controlled breathing. He stared at the helmeted face of a head-butting Krogan, who’s hard crest crashed against his own with a sharp  _ crack _ that shook his vision and robbed him of further balance. It was followed with a series of simultaneous stabbing pains erupting all over his midsection, followed by the warning lights in his helmet going off; his kinetic barriers had broken, from what he presumed to be a shotgun. A follow-up shot would likely pierce through his armor.

When he reacted it came more from instinct than any conscious effort, and he had already opened the flow of his biotics earlier. It blasted from him like a force of nature, a wave of energy that forced the Krogan back enough to slam him back against one of the bridge’s bulkheads, buying him the time and distance he needed to respond with lethal counterfire with the rest of his team. It never came. By the time that Providentius managed to shrug off his attacker, the rest of his men were held hostage on the bridge. He looked behind him to see his men in choke holds with pistols pointed at their heads. Snarling, Providentius whirled around with his weapon raised, although none of the boarders attempted to attack him further. The Krogan who attacked him rose to his feet and laughed, full of smug cruelty. His shotgun was pointed straight at Providentius’ midsection.

“Drop it.”

Wordlessly, Providentius set his Phaseton on the ground and kicked it aside.

“Signal the all-clear, and slave your ship’s navigational systems to ours.”

Providentius nodded to the bridge crew, who followed his orders. As he did, he heard Pherio’s voice in his helmet’s speakers.

“Admiral, we’re almost set here. What’s your status?”

Providentius didn’t answer, and heard Pherios repeat his question. “Admiral? Providentius, come in!”

Shortly thereafter, the all-clear signal was sent throughout the ship. Pherios stared at his omni-tool and paused. It wasn’t like Providentius just to answer with a signal. He would’ve verbalized confirmation unless-

Pointing to three other soldiers in his group, Pherios signalled them to follow after him to the bridge, who fell in behind him with questioning glances.

“What are we doing?” asked one.

“Something’s off,” Pherios replied simply. “We’re going to check the bridge.”

“Wasn’t Providentius securing that? We just got the all-clear.”

“The Admiral himself would’ve told us if he did. Just trust me on this one.”

After brief hesitation, the soldiers under Pherios’ command followed his lead. As they neared the entrance, Pherios’ omni-tool lit-up briefly before he and his men all disappeared underneath a tactical cloaking field. They reached the door in utter silence, and prompted Pherios to grip his weapon a little more tightly as he ventured a glance around the corner. True to his suspicions, and much to his dismay, Providentius was disarmed and held at gunpoint, and his fire team was incapacitated in a similar predicament.

“We have hostiles,” Pherios murmured. “A Krogan and several others are on the bridge. The crew is held hostage, the Admiral included.”

“Well, shit,” hissed one. “What’s the plan?”

“Breach and clear on my mark, with all possible haste.”

“Standing by.”

Pherios steeled himself, the tension gathering in his knees until he released it in an explosive kick to round the corner. “Go.”

Within the first second, Pherios and his team rounded the corner and raised their weapons at the targets marked on their HUD. In the second afterwards, they dropped their cloak and opened fire. The sudden, deafening blast of weapons fire in such close proximity caused the Krogan to whirl around, bewildered as his men took fire and fell around him. In this instant, Admiral Providentius suddenly lunged forward and snapped his claws around the Krogan’s shotgun, who promptly turned back to face him and wrestled for control of the gun. Pherios and the others stepped back, not willing to risk the life of their admiral for a chance to shoot at his assailant, and moved to shield the bridge crew from the scuffle instead.

Providentius locked claws and met the Krogan’s headbutt with one of his own, bracing his stance and refusing to back down. Soon after, the admiral’s armor ignited in blue flame as he managed to wrest the shotgun in his hands and empty the rest of its thermal clip into his attacker. The Krogan fell, motionless in a growing pool of orange. The admiral let out a long exhale.

“Pherios,” he began with a nod to his analyst. “My gratitude. I was hoping someone would come investigate; the situation being what it was, I had few options to signal duress. Have we retained control of the engine room?”

 Just then, one of the pilots for the frigate turned his head to report, “We have impulse power again!”

Turning swiftly to him, Providentius replied. “Good. Get us on a full burn back to the rear of our formation as soon as you are able.”

 

***

 

“...Look, I’m just stating the facts. It’d really help all of us if you just calmed down.”

“Whatever, sir. I’ll take that into account with my survival of two deployments out in the Traverse. How much combat experience do you have, anyway? Wargames and simulations don’t count.”

“Don’t change the subject. If you don’t regulate your breathing when you shoot, your bullet spread could very well end up killing friendlies in a collateral rich environment.”

“I’ve survived in the infantry long enough to know that my experience means more than some bullshit numbers from an uppity analyst. Think about that.” The marine then stormed off, leaving Pherios alone with his thoughts. The rest of his team had already departed, not willing to stick around to hear Pherios’ criticism.

“Lieutenant?”

Pherios whirled around as he heard Providentius’ voice, and he stiffened noticeably. “Providentius,” he began slowly. “Did you hear all of that?”

The admiral nodded, and Pherios sighed.  “You should let them know that I have everyone’s best interests in mind. I was just going over what they did wrong when we were retaking the  _ Resolute _ .”

“Right after we successfully fended off a pirate raid with minimal casualties?”

“That’s not my poin-”

“My point,” Providentius interrupted Pherios sternly, “is that you chose a wrong place and time to argue something that, however right you may be, you have little credibility in stating. Do not be so overbearing on your men. If you expected me to micromanage you in the same way, then I would not get anything done on this fleet. I trust my men to perform their jobs, and rely on their direct commanders to correct any deficiencies; they do not need you to perform that role.”

“Then I’ll just have to distribute my after-action report to their COs,” Pherios replied matter-of-factly. Providentius sighed.

“Very well. I can’t stop you from doing that. But all the same, I feel it would be best if you show respect to our forward troops; often, it is far too easy for the newly enlisted to chafe at crossroads of distance and authority between themselves and their senior officers. It is not often that they see us in their daily life, and when they do, it is oftnely only to receive orders and be critiqued. Balanced poorly, we lose respect and cohesion with our orders. I do not question your intentions over this matter, but your method of expressing it is counterproductive to your goals.”

“Then what would you suggest?” Pherios asked, glaring at Providentius a little harder than he would like to admit.

“Listen to them, first. While not perfect, their experiences do contribute to their continued success in the field. Liaise with their non-commissioned officers, and rely on them first to model and lead them before becoming directly involved. It doesn’t hurt to get to know them better, either, and to serve alongside them as a peer; that does much to bridge the gap between soldier and commander.”

“And does that apply between Admiral and Lieutenant, too?”

At this, Providentius paused, blinked, and then slumped his upright posture. “Pherios, your skills are not in question; it is your maturity. You cannot expect everyone on this fleet to be perfect; not even yourself. If you continue this way, the marines’ morale will plummet, and I will be barred from allowing your presence on the ground teams. Is that clear?”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore all the mistakes that I see, even if it costs us later?” Pherios bit out. 

Providentius shook his head. “No, but there are times and places where we discuss deficiencies in performance. We hold training drills for that reason; even with our debriefs, you should not keep these criticisms as the sole focus of your discussion.”

Pherios nodded and turned to leave before Providentius spoke again. “That being said, it would best if Fenriux and I helped you assemble a small platoon of your own to manage. You will gain valuable experience in leadership, and the protracted time you spend with them will help bridge the divide between command and subordinate.”

The lieutenant’s gaze suddenly lightened and he looked to Providentius with a small smile. “I won’t let you down, Admiral.”

“After having rescued me and the crew of my frigate, I wouldn’t expect you to,” came Providentius’ reply. “Keep up the good work, Lieutenant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pherios belongs to @distractables on tumblr!


	7. A Keeper's Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Admiral is not enemies with everyone in the Terminus. He has even found kindred spirits there. Although at first you might not see it, you wouldn’t find any expression better than birds of a feather. Well, maybe the feathers are more like plates." - Axel Peterson, C-Sec Investigations Officer

He was familiar enough with the sound of Providentius’ footfalls that he didn’t need to turn to see the admiral’s arrival.

“You didn’t bring your honor guard this time. Should I be thankful or insulted?”

“You asked me not to.”

“Nobody needs that pretentious wank around here, but I know you employ it as a point to honor your guests. So I can appreciate it.”

Of his own accord, Hades made his way back down the familiar halls of the  _ Ascendant Justice _ , and Providentius followed behind. A turian of imposing height and size, Hades was a match with the admiral in many respects, his sturdy frame clad in black and orange ceramic armor, and a pale fringe with solid blue streaks over sightless eyes. 

“I trust you’ve been keeping safe in my absence?” Hades said more than he asked.

“The Terminus has been quiet for some time,” Providentius replied. “There hasn’t been anything of concern that has prompted me to ask for your help yet.”

“So is this more of a courtesy visit?”

“Unless there’s something I can assist you with.”

Hades didn’t roll his eyes, but his huff was audible. “Your idea of ‘help’ is usually unannounced.”

“Only because you never ask.”

Growling, Hades kept on until they reached the Admiral’s quarters. “I trust you, not your leaders. With you I know there’s no strings attached.”

Providentius nodded as they passed through. Striding over to the wardrobe, he removed his cloak from the clasps on his shoulder boards and folded it onto one of the racks. “I understand your concern. You won’t have to be involved with them on my account; all I’m concerned with is keeping the peace here.”

“A nice sentiment,” Hades muttered, “If that were true then I wouldn’t have to keep hauling your sorry arse out of the fire now, would I?”

Providentius chuckled. “Terminus raiders attack first and make excuses later, and we don’t take such provocations laying down. We both know it’s a matter of self-defense.”

“The Hierarchy is more than your own policies and actions,” Hades replied. “You of all people should know that. If it were otherwise, Myr would not even step foot near you.”

The admiral grimaced. “This is true. But he knows as well as I that there are good and bad actors to all sides; the Terminus shows that better than the Hierarchy.”

“The difference being that we speak only for ourselves. You represent your people, but I come because I want to visit you, not your government.”

Providentius stirred. “A humbling gesture on your part.”

Hades snorted. “Just accept the compliment, will you?”

“You say that as if it was easy. But if it was, you wouldn’t have a hard time with it, either.

Hades’ scowl grew, and Providentius simply laughed. Hades noted the gaps between each chuckle, the slowness of each breath. The admiral wasn’t sleeping well again.

“Get some rest, Admiral. You sound tired.”

This time, silence greeted Hades’ ears, and the humor they shared began to fade. When Providentius replied, he had resumed his usual, serious tone. “I am fine, but there are pressing concerns that keep me awake. The Hierarchy is working out the details of joint-exercises with the Systems Alliance on Kruljaven. Beyond the usual logistics, I am worried about its implications. The size and scale of those exercises are larger than anything we have conducted previously, and are simulating harsh environments where survival skills will be put to use. We wouldn’t be practicing these unless we were preparing for a war that didn’t involve conventional colony infrastructure…”

“Do you suspect that they’ll make a move against the Terminus Systems?”

“I’m more worried that the mercenary companies might see it that way. Or perhaps the Batarians might, given their recent troubles with the Alliance.”

“That sounds more like the Alliance’s problem than yours. What does that have to do with you?”

“There are other possibilities of what the Hierarchy and the Alliance is preparing for beyond the Terminus and Kar’Shan.”

Hades spent the silence that followed thinking of anything Providentius could be hinting at. It was unlike Providentius not to speak of things plainly, unless he was uncomfortable naming it. He thought to press the admiral on the matter, but decided against it; if he wanted Hades to know, he wouldn’t have been obtuse about the matter. Then again, he wouldn’t have given any hints at all.

“I suppose our mutual contact in the Alliance can speak more to it.”

“Perhaps,” Providentius murmured quietly. “I do not know if I believe him. He has no proof of his suspicions, but he never makes a move without good reason. His government is not interested in a war with either side, and he lacks the personal motivations to start one. My only conclusion is that he has enough basis to act on something he cannot prove yet.”

Hades scowled. “That’s above my paygrade, certainly. But if there’s anything I can help with-”

Providentius chuckled. “I wouldn’t be able to afford to hire you for that kind of job.”

“You wouldn’t have to.”

“My conscience would hold me guilty for it if I just let you help me without some form of compensation.”

“Only because it insists on having you shouldering the world’s burdens.”

“It’s easier when there’s two of us are trying to do that.”

Hades huffed, the slightest hint of a smile emerging across his visage. “My world consists of a small enough group of people that it’s manageable. Come on, I’m with you on the long haul. Let’s get back to it together, shall we?”

Providentius nodded, standing up with a huff. “Alright. Once more into the breach, then?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a place for me there when it rolls around.”

 

***

 

_ And just who is that fighting alongside you? _ Aeos thought to himself, observing the two titans that tore through the Alliance’s defensive positions. From his sniper’s nest on the nearby hilltop, Aeos watched with his eye gazing down the scope of his rifle. He observed the pair breaking through his troop’s positions, contesting each street, push his forces back house by house. The two would enter first, followed by a flood of Hierarchy marines, and progressively take more and more ground in fashion befitting the turian empire.

_ It’s not your twin. No, Fenriux is overseeing the overall operation from the base. Brutal, efficient tactics, carried out with lightning-fast strikes. Predictable, but formidable. Spectres like Zylar aren’t officially here, and he would have levelled the building by now...and your fellow giant is a natural at close-combat. That leaves- _

“Aeos. Fast movers inbound. We’ll be tagged out of the war game unless we exfil now.”

“Go, rendezvous with Bravo team. I’ll continue monitoring the admiral and his squad. I’ll keep command posted with any updates.”

Aeos’ partner nodded and quickly made his way down the tree cover on the hill, while Aeos himself slid down towards the turian advance. He holstered his rifle and spoke cooly into his helmet’s microphone as his objective emerged into his field of vision.

“Target acquired again. Looks like they’re clearing a path to the spaceport. They’re advancing armored support and anti-air weaponry with their rearguard. I’m tagging the vehicles now, will report back with troop positions shortly.” As soon as he had finished speaking, he switched off his comms. He just gave himself as much time as he could afford to go dark, and operate unsupervised. He had to find Providentius.

At the foot of the hill, Aeos sprinted towards the outer limits of the spaceport, sticking close to the perimeter and taking only momentary peeks around the corners. He slipped between squads of four and six, aided in part by his tactical cloaking device and great effort in keeping his footsteps light. Under the cover of night, he managed to slip into the same building that Providentius just entered; they were alone.

“Funny finding you here.”

Aeos felt the barrel of a shotgun press lightly against the ceramics of his helmet. “Hades,” he began slowly. “Didn’t know the admiral hired a merc to be his bodyguard for today. Is his honor guard out sick or something?”

“Just showing them how it’s done. Provi thought you might be here, and I know your habits well enough to recognize when you’re around. Turian soldiers walk with a far steadier rhythm. At any rate, you’re out, so on with it.”

“Not yet,” Aeos murmured. “I have business with the admiral first.” As he said this, he ducked and jerked his arms upwards to slap Hades’ weapon away. As if he were already expecting the move, Hades lurched forwards, raising a leg to deliver a swift kick to the human’s stomach. He felt his attack push through thin air, just prior to hearing Aeos’ telltale exhale. He was in the middle of throwing a punch. Flexing his muscles taut at the moment of impact, Hades’ armor took the brunt of Aeos’ biotic fist, his clawed feet digging into the floor to prevent the force of the impact from knocking him back, and his arms snapped forwards to catch the retreat of the human’s extended fist. His talons found purchase around Aeos’ wrist and quickly clenched shut. Hades quickly flicked his claw to lock Aeos’ arm joints, but not before the human withdrew his own pistol and pressed it at the bottom of Hades’ chin. Hades huffed as he felt it’s barrel press at his jawline, and didn’t move. From what he heard, he didn’t have to.

“Thanks for the spar, Hades,” Aeos remarked. “Now, if you don’t mind-”

“I do,” Providentius growled, jabbing his Phaeston at the small of Aeos’ back. Reluctantly, the human raised his arms in surrender.

“I hope both of you are aware of the methods that the Alliance use to execute their POW rescue operations,” he murmured. Providentius didn’t reply and took Aeos’s wrists to bind them together behind his back, and then assigned a squad of marines to watch him closely and keep him on one of the rooftops in clear view of both Alliance and Hierarchy alike. From his view on the roof, Aeos could continue to observe Hades and Providentius as they continued to fight together. Even if he attempted escape, he knew the effort would be meaningless. All around him, he glimpsed the bristling missiles and turrets of Hierarchy anti-air defenses installed near the spaceport. 

In the meantime, he turned his attention to the two turians of interest. Providentius made his rounds among his men, giving orders and speaking into his communicator, with Fenriux Aeos presumed. Hades tagged along, but only of his own initiative. As far as Aeos observed it, it seemed like the mercenary genuinely liked being in Providentius’ company; on more than one occasion Hades also seemed to be giving out orders to the troops himself. His imposing presence and his clear affinity with Providentius created an air of authority over the mercenary. The troops under the admiral’s command seemed to follow Hades’ word just as much as if Providentius said it himself, and the admiral didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

_ Nevermind _ , Aeos thought suddenly as he saw the darker turian raise his arms in protest. Hades went along with some of Providentius’ troops, leaving the admiral to attend to his official duties. The whole scene created something of a novelty for him; it was rare that he saw Providentius depart to his actual administrative duties, just as it was rare for him to see Hades work beyond his usual clientele. It was strangely refreshing to Aeos’ eyes.

When the agent noted Providentius solitude, he acted quickly. Opening his communications to Providentius, he spoke quietly into his headset’s microphone. “Now that we have the opportunity, we need to talk.”

“The dead aren’t supposed to speak, even in the middle of war games,” Providentius replied tersely.

“Time is short, so I’ll be brief,” Aeos reassured him.

“You have never been short with me,” Providentius retorted. “Speak plainly. What’s on your mind?”

“Cerberus is continuing to make moves in the Terminus. I’m tracking many of their operatives in several systems. By now they’ve probably noticed me, and I need arrangements to be made.”

“If it falls within Hierarchy jurisdiction, then I will do what I must.”

“I know you have contacts within the Terminus as well-”

“Forget it. I will not risk them for someone like you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Aeos replied softly. “Quite the opposite.”

“...I’m listening.”

Aeos looked to Hades with the troops again. He had since seemed to keep to himself, disappearing into one of the buildings where the human glimpsed a workbench and some tools that he could not identify. Returning his gaze to the horizon, Aeos continued. “It’s likely that if I continue to investigate my leads, they will in turn look for paths back to me.”

“Hades has only worked a few times with you. I doubt he thinks much of it.”

“Cerberus won’t. Hades has a few friends covering him, but official protection wouldn’t hurt. Keep tabs on him for me, won’t you?”

Aeos heard Providentius huff through his headset. “I don’t need you to ask that of me. I already would.”

“If anything big were to happen in the Terminus, his best bet among the chaos will be with your fleet. The Citadel’s laws still count for something, to say nothing of your military-grade firepower.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“If there is no threat, then I’m sure Hades would appreciate your goodwill. If even your help is not enough, then there would be nothing we could do to begin with. Just keeping him away from anything to do with Cerberus and me will do for now.”

“You say that to just ease a guilty conscience.”

Aeos breathed once, slowly, and controlled his exhale. “Maybe it is. What is that to you? You still want the best for him, don’t you? You know how far he’ll go out of his way to help a friend.”

“He considers you one?”

“I’m not taking chances.”

Providentius huffed. “You value yourself too highly.”

“Or maybe my paranoia won’t let me think otherwise. You wouldn’t, either. He certainly won’t stand for you sacrificing yourself for anybody, if he can help it.”

“I suspect that makes all three of us.”

Aeos chuckled a little. “Yes, I suppose it does. Time will tell which ones will end up with the survivor’s guilt, eh?”

“Enough,” Providentius rebuked Aeos harshly. “I have no time for your sentiments. I’ll keep Hades clear of any dealings of yours. I should be notified of them beforehand, and I promise to keep him close at hand.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And, thank you for the distraction, Providentius. I doubt anybody will find you in time to let you know the early warning radar tripped.”

By the time that Providentius whirled around to see where Aeos remained imprisoned, Alliance fighters blazed a trail overhead and tagged all of his anti-aircraft batteries, and shortly thereafter a coordinated assault on his troops began. By the time that he could fight his way back to the rooftops, one of their shuttles had already taken Aeos away.

 

***

 

“After-action report, Captain Aeos speaking. I wasn’t really expecting Providentius to work with Hades during the joint-combat exercises on Kruljaven. With his honor guard, Providentius has never lost a unit under his command, but with Hades on his side, winning against him isn’t really feasible.”

“...Never underestimate them when they fight together. Hades has many years of experience as a mercenary, and he didn’t take the easy jobs. A combat VI built into his hardsuit offers him targeting telemetry in lieu of his eyes, and that armor shrugs off sustained Alliance light arms fire with both a strong layer of shields and ceramics. None of the combat engineers could get close enough to overload his systems, and he dispatched them easily enough with his shotgun. On top of this, his combat instincts are formidable, and within his range of hearing he can accurate predict most of his enemy’s movements and intentions. No one could get close to him.”

“...This wouldn’t have been an issue, given that we had designated marksman in all our squads that we could have used to engage Hades at long range. That was foiled by the Admiral; he personally led his troops to cover Hades’ flanks in a wide perimeter, and he himself was able to take on everyone that Hades could not. The two of them covered for each other. Our forces could not engage one without contending with the other, and so were defeated in detail. Even when pressed, the two were like diamonds back-to-back. Frankly speaking, it was a little inspiring to see.”

“...Personal feelings aside, the observation was quite beneficial in being able to observe how the two turians operate. I’m confident that Hades will have steadfast support when he’s in Citadel Space, or at least anywhere near the Hierarchy, and the admiral himself will have a formidable bodyguard. Regarding the current state of affairs, it is my personal opinion that we’ve done all that we can with our current resources and contacts. Most of what we do now will, in all likelihood, be a race against time. But what I have done, and what I will do, should keep our key individuals well-placed in any contingency. I have no preconceptions as to their chances of survival, but they will see to it that the others will live. Their rapport and relative proximity will be enough. As for Providentius and Hades, those two can take down anybody who would threaten them or their friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hades Eventi belongs to @NoxiorM on twitter!


End file.
